


Fraternising and Fornicating

by CiaraK_1996



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Dom/sub, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smut, Switching, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaraK_1996/pseuds/CiaraK_1996
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship throughout the centuries ... only more explicit.





	Fraternising and Fornicating

**Author's Note:**

> Some inspirations for Lord Asmodeus (@/lordasmodeus23 instagram)

** 4004 BCE – The Garden **

Crawley and Aziraphale stood for a while in the rain, watching Adam and Eve running off into the desert to find shelter. Crawley knew that the nearest trees were nearly a day’s walk from the walls of Eden, and the nearest cave was nearly impossible to find even when you knew it was there. He glanced at the angel, he didn’t seem particularly worried about their survival, just a little guilty and just a tad nervous. Crawley smiled, angels were supposed to be pure and loving, but something about this angel almost reminded him of himself before he fell; a heart too large for his own celestial body, and a mind that thought too much.

The worst thing about being a demon were the Sins, the Big Sins. Unlike Virtues, they were not celestial entities in the usual senses. They were thoughts crammed into his skull, designed to control and corrupt both himself at the world at large. So far Crawley had completed one temptation; he tempted Eve to eat an apple. Dramatic effect, but it was not much of a temptation; Eve was only a day old, and he did not even have to lie to get her to eat the apple. God had said they would die, and Crawley knew that that was simply not true and now he was watching them run away, hand in hand, with the knowledge of good and evil coursing through their veins. Hell had greater plans, Lucifer had been rather insistent that every demon proved themselves and commit a sin. Many were already fighting whatever angel or animal they could find, eating whatever they could find, or naming themselves dukes and lords of Hell. At this early stage of Hell; envy, greed and sloth were rather weak sins as there was not much to do or steal on Earth yet.

Crawley looked back at the angel; he was so pure. He shook the thoughts and orders from his mind, trying to count the lightning strikes. Aziraphale looked as if he were going to speak and then changed his mind, each time he would shake his head a little and smile shyly; Crawley could have melted.

CRAWLEY.

The demon shuddered, for some reason, the new hierarchy enjoyed forcing themselves into his mind to give him his orders and he did not like it one bit.

RECOUNT THE DEED OF THE DAY, CRAWLEY.

“Crawley?” The angel looked worried and the demon almost smiled, “Are you alright.”

Suddenly Crawley panicked, if Satan was in his head talking to him, could he see through his eyes? He closed them and replied; _I have tempted Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, and she tempted Adam. Now they are both banished from Eden._

GOOD

Crawley sighed with relief, but he could still feel him in his mind.

WHAT SINS HAVE YOU COMMITTED?

Crawley’s mind went blank, was lying to the devil a sin? No, they had names, seven; Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Pride, Sloth, Lust, and Wrath. Lying alone was not much of a sin.

PICK ONE, the voice resonated through his skull, AND ACT UPON IT.

Greed; nothing had any value yet. Crawley shook his head and moved to the next Sin. Gluttony; he looked at the trees and plants and could not bring himself to eat. Envy; all demons envied the angels right now, that did not really count. Pride; he was not proud of falling, it was an accident and now he was damned. Wrath; he was not angry about falling, not really, he was sad, he wanted to find a corner and cry. Sloth; Lucifer seemed to want him the _do_ something and although doing nothing was a sin, refusing orders were likely to have greater ramifications. Lust; Crawley looked up at the angel a felt his heartache. The angel was worrying over him, he had collapsed to the floor when the orders came through and the angel was so innocently _worried_.

_I can’t_, he thought pitifully, but those sins were whispering in his ear. They were so quiet and yet so deafeningly loud.

_You’re better than him_, muttered Pride, _you’re free to do what you want_.

_It’s not fair that you should Fall, and he should stay_, hissed Envy, _he disobeyed and should be punished_.

_Punish him_, Wrath breathed airily.

_Take what you want_, Greed encouraged.

_Gorge on his Grace_, Gluttony giggled.

_It’ll be easy_, Sloth added.

_Take him!_

The Cherub was becoming increasingly concerned, the demon seemed broken as if he were no longer there and lost in thought. The rain was soaking them, but they did not feel the cold.

“Crawley?” The angel frowned, he should not even be talking to a demon, let alone fussing over him, “Crawley?”

Suddenly the demon seemed to focus. He looked calm for a moment, and then he looked predatory.

“Sorry, Cherub,” He grumbled just before pushing the angel backward onto the stone floor.

Aziraphale yelped, he tried to stand but the demon pinned him down, “What are you doing?”

“Make an effort,” He hissed against his ear before nipping at it, “Now!”

Aziraphale was confused and did nothing of the sort. Crawley shoved him onto his belly and pinned him against the stone. The angel flapped his wings feebly, but the demon was lying against his spine, safely between the gaps of his wings.

“Crawley…?” Aziraphale whimpered as the demon pushed up his robe, he was almost as surprised as Crawley to find a slit between his legs. The demon got to his knees, holding the angel’s wings down, he worked the angel’s legs apart with his own.

“Relax, Cherub,” He whispered, when the white wings stopped flapping, he pulled on the angel’s fleshy hips, so the angel was now on his knees. The angel tried to sit up, but Crawley pushed hit face back against the stone.

“What are you doing?” The angel gasped as slender fingers brushed through the folds of his slit, “Ah!”

“This will be over soon,” The demon hushed, dipping a finger inside.

“Oh…” He gasped, then clenched, “No…this…this isn’t…_AH_!”

“Hush,” Crawley whispered, his left hand stroked his soft white wing, while his right hand worked inside the angel.

“A-_ah_!” The angel cried out, just as the demon curled his fingers in a particular way. He shuddered and instinctively relaxed, though the demon seemed tenser.

Crawley slowed, struggling to make an effort himself. He should stop, leave the angel alone and pretend it never happened. Part of him wanted to taste him and enjoy him properly. But the orders were simple; tempt, corrupt, and be sinful.

“Sorry,” He whispered, hefting up the hem of his own robe and taking his newly manifested cock in hand and guided himself inside the angel.

“Oh, _my_!” The angel cried; it was not unpleasant but certainly different, he made an effort to rid himself of his virgin pain and gasped. The demon thrusted into him, and something tingled and ached inside. It was wrong, dirty, sinful and yet he felt so good. He tilted his hips slightly and gasped as the new sensation rippled through him.

Crawley thrusted into the angel, allowing his lust to overwhelm him. As a demon, he should have been violent and ruthless, but he was clinging to the angel beneath him, kissing his wings, and caressing his soft curves. He smiled with every gasp and groan that escaped the angel’s lips. It felt almost like worship is some strange demonic way. But thoughts of the corruption seeped into his mind, he wanted to be close to the angel because he was pure and kind, and now he was defiled and tainted. And if this should truly corrupt him… Crawley stopped abruptly.

“I shouldn’t have…” He stammered, moving out of the angel and carefully covering him as he collapsed to the floor “I’m sorry, Cherub.”

“Aziraphale,” The angel corrected airily, slowly trying to compose himself, but the demon was already sauntering away, his wings close to protect him from the rain and his shame.

** 3004 BCE – The Ark, Mesopotamia **

_Do not talk to him_, he thought to himself, but his feet were moving, _don’t!_

“Hello, Aziraphale,” He said, trying to sound casual.

The angel looked awkward, but acknowledged him all the same, “Crawley.”

He made no effort to run or kill him so that had to be a hopeful sign.

“So, giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out of you?” Crawley said, testing the water as it were.

The angel looked even more nervous, “The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.”

Crawley felt lost, but then the angel smiled at him, a nervous smile but a smile all the same. Crawley relaxed slightly, he could apologise later, “Probably a good thing. What is this all about? Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?”

Aziraphale fumbled and shifted, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you. What with you being a demon and all that. But … from what I hear, God’s a bit _tetchy_. Wiping out the human race. Big storm.”

The angel seemed to relax a little, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Surprisingly the angel seemed to trust him with a heavenly secret even after what he did to him. Crawley knew about the boat plan; Shem had asked him to look after the children while he and his brothers helped with the ark and their wives helped with the animals. However, wiping out humanity had never been mentioned within his hearing, “All of them?!”

Aziraphale was babbling now, clearly uneasy with the topic, though the demon took solace in the knowledge that it was God’s plan making him uneasy rather than the close proximity of the demon. Aziraphale assured him that only the locals would die, though the term ‘locals’ in this case seemed to cover the Middle East, Europe and Africa.

“Not the kids? You can’t kill kids.” Crawley protested.

Aziraphale looked somewhere between nauseous and weeping, he couldn’t bring himself to answer and simply nodded. Crawley’s stomach dropped, he looked at the boat and the oncoming storm, then back at the children. He knew their names, he knew their laughs, they were _children_.

The rains began and after a few moments Aziraphale looked up at him and almost smiled, “I’ll see you on the Ark?”

“What?” The demon stammered, lost in his thoughts.

“The flood,” Aziraphale clarified, “Anything on the land will drown. You’ll … be discorporated.”

_He’s worried about me_, Crawley could have smiled, “Best not. I thought the flood was supposed to wash away the evil sinners.”

Aziraphale sighed, “At least go to hell. Drowning is quite unpleasant from what I’ve heard.”

The angel did an awkward shuffle and started moving through the crowd towards the boat. Crawley looked around, people were running in all directions; most were running to their homes, others for the mountains; most of them did not think the storm serious enough to run for the boat. During most storms, it was not safe to be in a boat, but the Ark looked large enough to withstand any storm. Crawley ran towards the village.

* * *

Aziraphale watched the waves crash over the land. The sea was consuming the earth.

“What are you doing here?” It was one of Noah’s grandchildren.

“Oh,” Aziraphale stammered, “I’m supposed to be here. See?” He stretched out his wings, “I’m an angel.”

“Wow,” The child glowed in awe, and saddened slightly as the angel tucked away his wings again, “Papa said the nice man couldn’t come.”

“What nice man?”

“The one with the funny eyes,” The child said innocently, “He plays with us and tells us stories.”

“Crawley,” Aziraphale smiled despite himself, “What stories does he tell you?”

“Lots really,” The child shrugged, “I like the one about the angel who gave Adam a sword of fire and helped him and his wife escape God’s wrath. The angel who cared and loved.”

Aziraphale blushed and smiled nervously, “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Probably,” The child allowed, “My name’s Aram.”

“Good to meet to Aram,” The angel smiled, “My name is Aziraphale.”

“I won’t tell anyone you’re here, Aziraphale!” The boy yelled as he ran back inside.

The boat was swaying with the tide and the storm was louder than ever. Aziraphale watched the lightning flash and the storm rage against the mountains but could not turn away.

“Where are they?!” A child screamed.

“Aram get back inside!” An elder boy yelled over the thunder.

“It’s been too long, Canaan!” Aram screamed back, “Aziraphale can save them!”

“Save whom?” Aziraphale stammered, watching the children with increasing concern.

Aram began to answer when a wave crashed against the Ark knocking everyone over. A young girl screamed.

“Mara!” Canaan screamed, “Get back inside! You’re not supposed to be up here!”

“Who are you waiting for?” Aziraphale yelled, pulling Aram towards the shelter of the Ark, “There’s no one left out there!”

Canaan shut the door behind them and quickly counted everyone inside, “Wait, who are you?”

“He’s an angel,” Aram stated flatly.

“Right,” Canaan did not seem convinced, “Mara, go back to the others.”

The girl huffed and protested, Aziraphale looked at her curiously as she descended into the depths of the boat, “She’s not of your blood.”

“Of course not,” Canaan retorted, “She’s the carpenter’s daughter.”

“But how did she get on board?” Aziraphale stammered.

“How did you?” Canaan retorted, clearly irritated.

“The nice man can fly!” Aram giggled happily, “But he went out into the storm for another child from our village.”

Aziraphale froze and looked at the door, “Oh dear. I’ll knock. Stay inside.”

He ran out into the storm and watched Canaan shut the door behind him. The skies were darker, and the storm was rougher than it had been a moment ago.

_Crawley, where are you? _Aziraphale stretched his wings and flew out into the night.

* * *

Crawley had spent too long looking for the last child, he should have turned back sooner, but he couldn’t abandon her. He found her clutching to an uprooted tree, struggling to stay afloat.

“Come here, Bina!” He cried and reached out to her, he held her tightly in his arms and took flight. There was no time to explain the wings, but the children trusted him, which might have been why God wanted to destroy them.

The skies were darkening, but being a celestial being he could see perfectly well in the dark and turned towards the Ark. Lightning broke through the clouds and struck the remaining patches of earth and the turbulent sea. Crawley struggled to keep a steady flight path as his wings grew heavy with the rain. He could feel Bina slipping in his arms.

_Almost there_, he thought desperately, pulling Bina closer in his arms, _Almost-_

A bolt of lightning tore through his wing. He wasn’t sure who was screaming. He desperately clutched the child close before they crashed into the black waves. His wings were catching the tide and he struggled to tuck them away and keep a grip on the child while quickly figuring out how to swim. They broke the surface and were suddenly hit by a violent wave. He could still feel the pain from his wing; it was excruciating and resonated throughout his being, he fought against the pain; he would simply be sent back to Hell if he drowned, but Bina would be lost forever. The tide threatened to separate him from the child, and he pulled her close before pushing her towards the surface as he was dragged beneath the waves. Suddenly she was snatched from his grasp and he cried out before remembering he could not breathe beneath the water. The darkness was crushing him, his lungs burned, and he could feel his celestial soul being dragged from his body. Then he was being pulled from the waves and dropped somewhere hard.

“Take the girl!” He heard someone say, he was vaguely aware of being dragged. He woke up sometime later, surrounded by at least thirty children of varying ages, and he smiled.

“Hello,” He groaned groggily, he shifted slightly and gasped in pain.

“What’s wrong?” The angel was soggy, his features etched with worry.

“What are you doing here?” Crawley grumbled, trying desperately to ignore the pain.

“Me?” Aziraphale laughed, “You’re the one smuggling children onto the Ark!”

“Had to defy God somehow,” Crawley grinned and nearly passed out again, but as he slumped against the wall he yelped in agony.

Aziraphale was very close and gripping at him desperately, “What’s wrong, Crawley?”

“Nothing, Cherub,” Crawley protested, but Aziraphale was already helping him to his feet and guiding him to another room full of bedding straw.

Aziraphale lowered Crawley carefully onto the straw, “What’s wrong? Tell me!”

Crawley sighed, “Lightning. It caught my wing.”

Aziraphale froze, fear etched clearly on his angelic features, “Show me.”

Crawley hesitated and then did as he was bid, too tired to argue. It looked bad, several feathers had been burned away and those that were left were coated in blood.

“Oh, Crawley,” Aziraphale gasped, instantly moving to the injured wing to assess the extent of the damage.

“What are you doing?”

Aziraphale frowned, “I’m an angel. I was made to heal.”

“Not demons,” Crawley argued, “I told you, I was supposed to drown with the rest of the damned.”

“So were those children,” Aziraphale protested, gingerly moving a feather to get a better look at the flesh beneath. Crawley hissed in paid and bashed his head against the wall, “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Crawley said through gritted teeth, “Leave me Cherub.”

“I’m not a Cherub, Crawley,” Aziraphale retorted flatly, not meeting the demon’s gaze.

Crawley’s stomach dropped, “No…” He gasped, “No, no, _no_ … I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Aziraphale faced him, innocently confused, “Why are _you_ apologising?”

Suddenly Crawley was crying, “I shouldn’t have t-touched you! _Oh, no_! I-I’m s-so s-sorry!”

He wept into his hands, hiding his face and burying himself in shame. When he calmed down a little, he saw Aziraphale smiling at him, “What?”

“I haven’t _fallen_, dear,” Aziraphale said smiling, “I was demoted. I’m a Principality now. Because of the Apple business … and helping them escape of course.”

Crawley wiped his tears away, “So I didn’t … condemn you?”

Aziraphale looked at him curiously, “Was that _not_ your purpose, with _that_?”

Crawley bit his lip to stop it shaking, “I shouldn’t have. New demon and all that. Sins were rather new and wild. I’m in much better control now. I’m so sorry, angel.”

Aziraphale pulled him into a tight embrace, being mindful of his damaged wing and held him as he wept, “Hush, dear. It’s alright.”

The angel held him until he calmed and set to work fixing his wing, and together they kept the children safe throughout the storm.

** 33 AD – Golgotha, Jerusalem (Modern Israel) **

They stood silently through the night as the men died atop the hill. Jesus’s friends and family wept until dawn when they were finally permitted to take down his body.

“I need a drink,” Crowley muttered, turning away from the dawn and back towards the citadel.

Aziraphale hurried to his side, “I have some wine.”

Crowley stopped and smiled, “I thought angels didn’t drink or eat for that matter.”

“I quite like it actually,” Aziraphale muttered, “Will you join me?”

Crowley followed Aziraphale to his dwelling and entered nervously, “Nice place. Cosy.”

“Where are you living currently?” Aziraphale asked, pouring them both cups of wine.

“Oh, um,” Crowley shifted nervously, “A woman’s refuge. A place for women escaping their violent husbands mostly.”

“You’re not a woman.” Aziraphale stated flatly.

“No more than you’re a man.” Crowley retorted.

Aziraphale looked the demon over as he drank his wine; the robe was long and tucked in at the waist, the long red hair covered by a black cowl. Aziraphale was not very savvy with modern fashions but he had certainly seen other women wearing similar clothes. He shrugged, gender was a rather abstract concept a best regarding celestial entities.

“So how have you been?” Aziraphale said suddenly, breaking the silence, “I haven’t seen you since China.”

“A long time,” Crowley nodded, “Not much. A small temptation here, a little menace there. Same old.”

“What are you doing in a woman’s refuge?”

“Officially? Tempting women to murder their cruel husbands and enter prostitution,” Crowley replied passively, “Unofficially, I’m helping them escape. Many men are hunting down their wives, daughters, and sisters, I’m just keeping them safe.”

Aziraphale smiled and refilled their cups, “A noble cause.”

“Shut it,” Crowley protested, “I’m not good, or kind … I’m just, spreading evil in an unusual manner.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale smiled knowingly, “You’re a _demon_.”

Crowley gulped down her wine bitterly.

Aziraphale smiled, “After all, there’s no way you would help evacuate several villages before the Han-Xiongnu War. Or rescue innocent children during the Flood.”

Crowley glared at the angel, angrily she set down her cup and turned to leave. Aziraphale pushed her against the simple door.

“What are you doing, angel?” Crowley whispered, trying not to think about the angel behind them.

“I’m not sure,” He replied, his breath hot against the demon’s neck. Hesitantly, he lowered his hands to Crowley’s hips and pushed against her.

“Oh,” Crowley sighed.

“Hush, dear,” Aziraphale breathed, pulling up the skirts of her robe and reaching between her legs.

She shuddered as his fingers dipped into her wetness, “_Angel!_”

Aziraphale delved deeper inside her, kissing her neck, “Get on your knees, demon.”

Crowley’s legs failed her, and she slipped to the floor, but Aziraphale held her close, kneeling behind her and pushing her against the door. He pushed her robe over her hips and pushed his fingers deep inside her.

“That’s better,” Aziraphale whispered, pulling away her cowl and pulling on her long auburn hair.

Crowley spread her legs for him and moaned as Aziraphale worked his fingers inside her. She was dripping by the time Aziraphale finally removed his fingers from her cunt.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley gasped, her breathing laboured needlessly, “Please.”

Aziraphale tugged on her hair and kissed her neck and jaw, “What do you want from me?”

“I just want you,” She gasped.

Aziraphale hesitated, trying to think about what he was doing. There was a demon on her knees before him, wet and wanton. But he was an angel, angels did not want or lust, and they certainly did not converse with demons, let alone fuck them. His penis had other ideas though, he could not recall manifesting in, but his flesh called out for her. He shifted a little closer and slipped inside her. Crowley’s nails scraped against the wooden door, bracing herself against his thrusts as she moaned. She was pushing back against him and Aziraphale could barely believe the euphoria rippling through his being. Aziraphale held her tightly and fucked her deeply, groaning and gasping into her hair. He bit her neck and grasped her hand. They were lost in their cries and suddenly she tightened around his and he could see stars as he released himself inside her. He could feel a burning heat radiating from her body as he held her tightly in his arms and they collapsed to the floor, catching their breath.

After some time, Crowley stood and cleaned herself with a snap of her slender fingers. Aziraphale sat down on his sleeping mat and watched her fix her outfit, sadness creeping into his soul as he realised what her cold silence meant.

“Crawley…” He muttered.

“Now we’re even,” She said bitterly and left.

** 41 AD – Rome - 1431 **

Aziraphale sat in the bar alone, when suddenly he heard a familiar voice. His eyes spotted him before he realised who he was looking for. He barely contained a smile at his poorly assembled outfit, he was approaching him before he had thought of anything to say and before he knew it; he was babbling. Crowley looked as miserable as Aziraphale had felt before spotting the demon and sadly did not seem to improve much with the sight of the angel.

Now the demon was begrudgingly following him to a restaurant which had a certain reputation Aziraphale had failed to mention. Aziraphale was thankful Crowley was currently presenting as a male human, as the restaurant only permitted men inside, not that Aziraphale had been there before, but he had heard so many interesting things and was starting to doubt his own intentions.

_Just dinner_, he told himself, _you’ve just invited an enemy to dinner_.

But Crowley was not an enemy in Aziraphale’s eyes, he wasn’t sure what he was in truth. An angel could not be friends with a demon, but they had shared their bodies; did that make them lovers? That was worse. Acquaintances had a nice ring to it, but it felt hollow. Aziraphale was pulled from his silent thoughts and felt crushing doubt consume him as he spotted the restaurant.

“What are oysters, anyway?” Crowley asked as they walked inside.

“Um, fish I believe,” Aziraphale answered, trying to ignore the very exposed boy showing them to a private _triclinium _with three_ klinai_; by private it was separated by a screen so the gentlemen in the next booth were out of sight. The boy was perhaps fourteen or sixteen years old, wearing nothing but a loincloth, he smiled coyly at them, pouring them cups of wine before leaving to fetch their food.

Crowley gave the boy a curious look before turning to Aziraphale, “What sort of place is this?”

Aziraphale shrugged and drank his wine, “I just heard the food was good.”

The boy returned with a dish full of oysters with purple veining along the mantle edge. Another boy, younger and equally exposed, followed carrying halved lemons and pots of oils and seasonings. Aziraphale reclined on his _klinai_ and reached for an oyster, he prised it open and with a tiny fork dislodged the flesh from the shell.

Crowley watched as the angel squeezed a little lemon juice over it and slurped the flesh down, “You do know that thing was alive when you were chewing it, right?”

Aziraphale looked a little guilty, “Apparently they taste better that way. Just try it will you?”

Crowley looked at the shells and frowned, but Aziraphale was smiling at him and he melted a little, “Oh, all right. I’ll try one.”

Aziraphale beamed and reached for another, watching as Crowley tentatively opened the shell and looked at the flesh inside and pulled a face of disgust. He looked up at the angel who was smiling encouragingly. He looked at the fish and took a deep breath before sliding the flesh into his mouth, he held it there for a moment, unable to chew or spit, and eventually chewed it and swallowed.

Aziraphale was fighting back hysterics, “Was it really that bad?”

Crowley washed it down with the strong wine, “It was slimy.”

“There’s supposed to be slimy, dear,” Aziraphale grinned.

Crowley looked back at the dish, “Perhaps I’ll try another.”

Several hours later they were laughing and rather drunk. They had eaten their way through two platters of oysters, a bowl of olives, tomatoes, and figs, and several decanters of strong wine. Crowley had been telling the angel of his time on the isle of Albion which part of a cluster of islands known to the Romans as Britannia.

“Perhaps I should visit these Celts of yours,” Aziraphale slurred happily.

“Don’t you have miracles to perform here?” Crowley giggled for no reason at all.

Aziraphale pouted, “I’m not … _always_ working.”

“_Pft_!” Crowley waved a hand and knocked a terracotta decanter over, “Oops!”

Aziraphale was giggling maniacally, which only worsened when Crowley became tangled in his toga as he tried to clean up the mess. Aziraphale staggered to his feet and grabbed the demon before he could fall off his _klinai_, “Come here, dear.”

Crowley stopped struggling as the angel untangled the toga from his sandal and sat beside the reclining demon. His breath caught in his throat as the angel removed his smoky quartz glasses and gazed into his eyes.

“You don’t have to hide around me, dear,” He said softly, his soft fingers brushed against his cheek, “If you’re going to be here long, you’ll need to know how to blend in better.”

Aziraphale removed the laurel from his head, “You don’t wear these in public, and I doubt you earned them.”

Crowley felt a little stupid and exposed now, but the angel smiled.

“Romans love snakes,” He whispered, “Though I think this is a Celtic brooch.”

Aziraphale pulled out the pin and Crowley felt the fabric loosen.

“I’m not sure what this is about either,” He muttered, pulling off the small cape-like fabric off his shoulders. Aziraphale stopped and stared at the demon laying beside him for a moment and slowly started pulling at his toga.

“Angel…” Crowley slurred, puzzled. Aziraphale pulled at his clothes faster and desperately, he shifted around and pushed himself atop the demon, pulling at his loosed clothes and kissing his exposed neck. The outer fabric fell away easily. He forced Crowley’s legs apart and pulled up the hem of his tunic.

“Angel,” Crowley gasped, his head swimming with intoxication, “What are you…?”

Aziraphale palmed the demon’s erection firmly causing him to groan gutturally, he moved down the _klinai_ to take a closer look while the demon watched him in suspended anticipation. Aziraphale looked up into the demon’s bright yellow eyes as he took the head of his penis into his mouth. Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut, his head fell back on the cushions as he gasped in ecstasy. Aziraphale watched him intently as he tightened his lips and hollowed his cheeks around the head of the demon’s cock. Crowley cried out and Aziraphale made the most undignified slurping noise as sucked off the tip of his penis; he was suddenly thinking about oysters again. Aziraphale wetted his lips with saliva and took him into his mouth again, watching the demon writhe and gasp as he sucked him. He tasted sinfully divine and he savoured to first drops of pre-cum like a fine sauce, licking the slit of his cock before taking him deep into his mouth and throat again, pressing his tongue against his length and hollowing his cheeks as he lifted himself off him again.

Crowley was clutching at the _klinai_ and the cushions, gasping and groaning as the angel consumed him over and over again. He forced himself to look down only to find the angel staring back, his face flushed and his lips moist around him. He had forgotten about the restaurant and how exposed they were. He had forgotten that he was a demon and Aziraphale was an angel. He had forgotten about their sides, and right and wrong. There was just Aziraphale.

His hand reached down and tangled in his short white hair, pulling him closer. Aziraphale smiled and took the demon into his mouth again and gently squeezed his balls. Crowley bucked into his throat. Thankfully, celestial entities did not have gag reflexes like humans did, and Aziraphale simply adjusted to the depth and let the demon fuck his throat raw.

“Ah!” He gasped, pulling on the angel’s curls, “I-I’m…”

Aziraphale hummed and tightened his hold on the demon, causing him to cry out and cum in his throat. Aziraphale sucked harder to swallow his hot release, dragging out his pleasure until it was nearly painful. Aziraphale crawled up to him, messed up is short stylised hair and kissed him deeply. Crowley could taste himself upon his lips and the tang of the wine. Then he remembered himself.

“Angel,” he gasped, “Angel, we can’t.”

He stopped but did not move away, “I think we already did.”

Suddenly all he could think was his angel burning and falling, if this was just sex then he might be fine, but should it develop into anything more…

“We can’t,” he repeated sternly, pushing the angel away slightly.

Aziraphale reddened, “I’m too drunk.”

“Agreed.”

They forced themselves sober and sombrely corrected their composures. Crowley felt a familiar pang of guilt as Aziraphale avoided his gaze, but it was for his own good. Finally, Aziraphale turned to speak to the demon, only to find himself alone again.

** 1020 AD – Bamberg, Bavaria (Modern Germany) **

Aziraphale sat uncomfortably, contemplating Crowley’s proposition. They were sat in a quiet German tavern, talking in hushed tones. Aziraphale had thought it was simply a social meeting, but Crowley had had other ideas.

“Angel?” The demon asked after some time, “Are you listening?”

“Hm,” Aziraphale acknowledged, still thinking deeply.

“Well?”

“It’s…” Aziraphale sighed, “Well, it’s treason.”

Crowley grimaced, “That’s quite a strong word, angel. It’s … _compromise_. A way of maintaining peace, aren’t angels supposed to be beings of peace?”

“As a principality, I’m a guardian, I bless and protect, but I do not actively _influence_ anything,” Aziraphale muttered, “And you’re a demon, spreading discord.”

“And we’re cancelling each other out,” Crowley emphasised, “I’m not asking you to tempt and corrupt. I’m just suggesting we just, help and stay out of each other’s way. Neither of us wins, neither of us lose. We’ll just … cancel each out.”

“What do you mean by ‘help’?” Aziraphale said sternly.

Crowley shrugged, “Turn a blind eye, compare notes. If one of us is to say … told to tempt Emperor Henri II for example and the other is say … told to bless him with piety … we’ll just, let him choose his own path. You say you blessed him, I say I tempted him, whatever happens, we either take credit or blame the enemy.”

Aziraphale chewed over the thought, they had done this before; both doing their job and getting a neutral result, this method would just save them the trouble of trying. But orders were orders. He shook his head, “We can’t disobey though. What if someone found out?”

“Who would find out?” Crowley retorted, “Has anyone checked on you this century? I mean personally, not some stupid message sent down to tell you your next miracle or to congratulate your efforts when they finally got around to your update. When was the last time someone _actually_ checked what you were doing?”

Aziraphale contemplated this, he had received messages regarding his jobs, but nothing more. Come to think of it the last angel he had seen was during the fall of Rome and they were preoccupied with their own mission at the time. Every now and then Gabriel would show up to check he was still alive when he forgot to check in with Heaven.

“I can tell you, that as long as I show up once a century,” Crowley continued, “They don’t even bother to send a reminder. I get a message every now and then and that’s it.”

“But what if they _do_ find out?”

“Like they found out you sucked my dick in a public Roman restaurant?” Crowley retorted, watching Aziraphale blush and squirm, “Or that you fucked me in Jerusalem. Or that I fucked you in Eden? They will _never_ know, angel.”

Aziraphale swallowed his embarrassment and pride, and nodded, “Alright, I’ll tell you my orders if you tell me yours and we can plan around them. I’ll stay out of your way and vice versa.”

“No one says ‘vice versa’ anymore, angel,” Crowley muttered with a smile, but he held out his hand to seal the deal and Aziraphale took it instantly.

** 1601 AD – London, England **

Aziraphale was packing, Scotland was a long way and Aziraphale could read a lot of books in a fortnight. There was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

Crowley sauntered into the room. A simple dwelling, a reception room and a bedroom on the third floor overlooking the river Thames and London Bridge. Books were stacked on nearly every surface in at least a dozen languages.

“Angel?” He called softly.

“In here,” He replied from his bedroom, Crowley found him trying to cram far too many books into a travel bag, and he couldn’t help but laugh, “You know, they do have books in Scotland.”

“But they’re not _my_ books,” The angel retorted.

Crowley pondered for a moment, “And what if you acquire _new_ books up there? You don’t have enough space for the books you already have.”

Aziraphale seemed to glow, “You’re right … I’ll need another travel beg.”

“No, angel,” Crowley sighed, “Just take one with less stuff in it. You could just miracle a book when you need it and then send it back here.”

Aziraphale frowned, staring at his choice of volumes for his trip, “I still can’t believe you talked me into a temptation.”

“A paradox of temptations,” Crowley grinned, “Tempt and angel to tempt a man.”

“Tempt him to what exactly?”

“Oh,” Crowley shrugged, “Nothing major. Just tempt this man to steal some cattle, that’s it. Anything more will not be your fault.”

Aziraphale took the piece of parchment and looked at the name and frowned, “What is Hell expecting from this?”

Crowley shrugged, “Not sure really, the clans are losing their grip from what I hear, James is threatening their power. But this guy is too peaceful. It might start a small conflict. Might not. Either way, it’s a job to be ticked off the list, nothing more.”

Aziraphale was not entirely convinced, “I’ll do it after my blessings.”

“Fine by me,” Crowley smirked, “Oh! And I think I may have overdone it with _Hamlet_ … They’ve had to postpone _The Merry Wives of Windsor_ by a fortnight because of increased demand. I was looking forward to that one.”

Aziraphale smiled shyly, “Well, I’ll be back in time to see it with you.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment and Aziraphale returned to his packing. Crowley turned to walk away and stopped, “Oh, and I got these for you.”

He handed the angel a small box, “What is it?”

Crowley tried to act nonchalant, “Um, just some candied fruit; apples, peaches, figs, pears, stuff. A bit of crystallised orange and ginger, too. They should last the journey north.”

Aziraphale smiled brightly at the flustered demon, “Thank you.”

Crowley thought about protesting and decided against it, “Be safe.”

He swiftly left the room and Aziraphale was left smiling alone, shoving several books out of his bag to make room for the gift.

** 1793 AD – Paris, France **

“So, what’s for lunch?” The demon asked calmly.

“What would you say to some crepes?” The angel answered with a cheeky smile. Suddenly they were no longer in the Bastille and walking along a Paris street. No one noticed their sudden appearance, and no one cared.

“How about here?” Aziraphale offered.

Crowley contained a smile and held the door open for him. He ordered the crepes and a brioche before sitting down opposite the angel, “So how is that shop of yours coming along?”

“Perfectly well thank you,” Aziraphale muttered, surprisingly irritated, “Although, I’m delaying the opening for the turn of the century.”

“Seven years?” Crowley smiled, “I had no idea it took so long to open a shop.”

“It doesn’t,” Aziraphale huffed, “For normal people, but I don’t actually _want_ to sell my books.”

“Ah, I see,” Crowley nodded, “What you should do is acquire lots of books you don’t like and sell those instead. Keep your collection separate. Still books, still a business, but you won’t lose what you love.”

“A compromise,” Aziraphale whispered beneath his breath, gazing at the demon opposite him, “I suppose that could work.”

“See,” Crowley smirked, “What would you do without me?”

“Get my head chopped off apparently,” Aziraphale retorted. They sniggered quietly at their own private joke as the food was set down on the table, “So what have you been doing? Not inciting a revolution apparently.”

“Art.” Crowley said flatly as he sipped his coffee, then he stopped, realising what he had said.

“Art?” Aziraphale blurted, grinning broadly and forgetting momentarily about his crepes.

Crowley looked a little flustered, “Yeah, um, just to pass the time really.”

Aziraphale was almost glowing, “What sort of art?”

Crowley panicked slightly, “Um, painting, sketches, working on some sculpture at the moment.”

“I’d love to see it someday,” Aziraphale said brightly.

“You would?” Crowley stammered nervously perplexed, thinking about his studio full of angelic sculptures, paintings of the stars, and the rather explicit sketched he kept under his bed.

“Of course, I would!” Aziraphale reassured him, “Why would you think for a second I wouldn’t?”

Crowley looked at his coffee, “They’re just not very good.”

“So?” Aziraphale protested, “I’ve never created anything. Which after five and half thousand years is quite sad actually.”

“I just…” Crowley was lost for words, and then snapped his finger and small oil painting and handed it to the angel.

“Oh!” Aziraphale bounced with joy, making Crowley’s heartache. He gazed over the painting, taking in every minute detail, “It’s wonderful. Oh, look! That’s you.”

To any ordinary human the painting was of a meadow in a forest, but Aziraphale recognised it as Eden instantly, with a snake hidden in the apple tree where only those who were looking would see him. Aziraphale beamed over the artistry, muttering praises under his breath, before finally handing it back.

“It’s wonderful, dear!” The was smiling uncontrollably and wiggling happily, “You really should not doubt yourself.”

Crowley looked at the painting in the angel’s outstretched hand and shrugged, “Keep it.”

Aziraphale stopped breathing, “Sorry?”

“Keep it,” Crowley repeated in a blasé tone, “You clearly like it more than I do.”

Aziraphale smiled bashfully, trying to speak without the use of his lungs before remembering how to use them, “Thank you.”

“You tell _anyone_…” Crowley warned, and empty threat in truth, but his embarrassment demanded it.

“Oh, I won’t,” Aziraphale said reassuringly, he gazed lovingly at the painting, “I do love it though.”

Crowley fought back a blush and smirked at the angel, “Shut up.”

** 1800 AD – London, England **

Aziraphale was fluttering; cleaning things that didn’t need cleaning and arranging and rearranging books without system or thought. There was a knock at the door.

“Are they gone?” The demon said with a smirk, holding a package out to the angel, “I know you don’t open until Friday, but … chocolates.”

Aziraphale accepted the package, “You lingered too long earlier. They almost saw you.”

“But they didn’t,” Crowley grinned, then saddened, “So, are you … leaving?”

Aziraphale sighed, “No, something made them change their mind. They left the medal though.”

Crowley walked to the table and opened the little box to find a bright gold medal with angelic markings he could no longer read. The angel had sat down and was opening the package with a happy wiggle.

“Nice to be appreciated,” Crowley muttered, looking up at the angel, “Did they say what made them change their mind?”

“No,” Aziraphale looked at him curiously, “You didn’t do something, did you?”

“No.”

Aziraphale popped a chocolate in his mouth and frowned, “You’re an awful liar sometimes. You can’t lie to the divine.”

“Says the angel that lied to God’s face,” Crowley retorted, sitting down on the table, “Has anyone figured out what happened to that sword of yours?”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know. No one’s asked about it since.”

Crowley smiled, loving the way the angel squirmed, “Doesn’t change the fact that you lied to Her.”

Aziraphale went to protest and decided to eat another chocolate instead, “You didn’t answer my question; what did you do?”

Crowley thought about answering for a moment, “I may have made sure I was overheard and suggested that I, a demon, was overjoyed at the idea of you leaving.”

Aziraphale looked a little sad.

“Just so they would make you stay,” Crowley added softly, “And Michael _is_ an arse.”

Aziraphale laughed a little, before feeling the weight of his soul-crushing his bones, “We need to be more careful.”

“I know, angel,” Crowley breathed, equally worried. They sat in silence for a moment before Crowley decided to speak, “How about some lunch?”

The angel fought a smile, “Not very careful of you.”

Crowley shrugged, “I doubt they’re watching you now, having only just left you with a medal for exemplary work.”

Aziraphale thought for a moment and smiled, “What did you have in mind?”

** 1862 AD – London, England **

“Look, I’ve been thinking. What if it all goes wrong? We’ve got a lot in common, you and me…” Crowley looked worried. Aziraphale wondered if the demon had had a nightmare while sleeping for the past sixty years. Aziraphale had tried waking him a few times with no success and then attempted to lesson Crowley’s burdens by performing a few small temptations and sending messages back to Hell in Crowley’s handwriting which was surprisingly easy to copy.

Unfortunately, he had performed a miracle shortly after a small temptation and received a reprimand from Gabriel for reckless endangerment for being so close to a known demon, not realising what Aziraphale was actually doing. Either way, Aziraphale was uncomfortable with the vulnerability of their chosen meeting place and decided to stay in character, “We may have started out as angels, but you are fallen.”

“I didn’t really fall. I just, sauntered vaguely downwards,” Crowley didn’t seem to care about Aziraphale’s comment, which was unusual, clearly too distracted by whatever was weighing on his mind, “I need a favour.”

_He doesn’t even know what I’ve already done for him_, Aziraphale thought bitterly, “We already have the agreement, Crowley. We stay out of each other’s way. Lend a hand when needed…”

“This is something else. For if it all goes pear-shaped.”

“I like pears.” Food often had this unfortunate effect on Aziraphale.

Crowley didn’t appear annoyed at Aziraphale trying to change the subject, “If it all goes wrong. I want insurance.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked, he too was beginning to worry now.

“I wrote it down. Walls have ears. Not walls. But trees have ears. Ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must do. That’s how they hear other ducks.”

_Babbling_, Aziraphale thought solemnly, _this must be very bad if he’s babbling_. He looked at the piece of paper and felt his heart stop, “Out of the question!”

“Why not?”

Aziraphale felt panic in his throat, he restarted his heart only to have it drumming in his head so loud he could barely think, “It would _destroy_ you. I’m not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley.”

“That’s not what I want it for. Just … Insurance.” He sounded sincere, but Crowley wasn’t a violent person and Aziraphale knew that would take any other way out of a fight, perhaps even die.

“I’m not an idiot, Crowley,” The angel pleaded, he was, unfortunately, thinking about the logistics of this enterprise; he was asking him to steal from Heaven, “Do you know what trouble I’d get in if they knew I had been fraternizing? It’s completely out of the question.”

“Fraternizing?” Crowley hissed with indignation; the demon seemed to finally see the angel standing beside him.

“Oh, whatever you want to call it,” Aziraphale retorted, regretting his words, but the pain was too much. Suddenly, he was thinking of the scenarios where Hell would find out about them and it always involved Heaven too. If Crowley were found out, then they were both doomed. Heaven might simply punish Aziraphale, perhaps even Fall, but either side found out about Crowley’s involvement and neither Heaven nor Hell would hesitate to destroy him, “I do not think there is any point in discussing it further.”

“I have lots of other people to _fraternize_ with, angel.” The demon sneered.

Aziraphale was fighting back tears, “Of course, you do.”

“I don’t need you.”

“The feeling is mutual. Obviously.” Aziraphale threw the scrap of paper and stormed off.

“_Obviously_.” Crowley mocked, feeling alone and hurt.

Aziraphale stormed back into his shop and slammed the door shut before letting out a shaking breath. He leaned against the door fighting back tears and heartache before finally walking back out on to the street. He chose a direction and walked into the first church he saw. Every church, Catholic or otherwise, had a receptacle with holy water. As an angel, he knew it was not true Holy Water, just normal water blessed by a priest. Holy enough to kill a demon and tainted enough to make it excruciatingly slow and very painful in theory; not that Aziraphale had ever seen it used on a demon, but he knew the principle of it. He looked into the font and clicked his fingers. An old woman gave him a curious look before he stormed out of the church to remove any hints of holy water from the next church or chapel he found.

** 1941 AD – London, England **

“Lift home?”

Aziraphale watched the demon saunter through the rubble to an already-outdated Bentley, so many thoughts swimming through his head. Mostly he felt love, Crowley had risked himself to save an angel, walking on concreted ground and dropping a Nazi bomb on Nazis. He had asked Aziraphale to keep them safe from the explosion and he did not hesitate, but he forgot the books entirely and Crowley had saved those too. These emotions were dangerous, reckless, and if left unchecked could expose them to their superiors. Angels could sense love and loving a demon was the worst thing he could possibly do. But for a moment he let it swell inside him, let it consume his soul, before finally pushing in back inside its cage and following the demon back to his car.

Crowley was waiting for him with a devilish grin, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” Aziraphale stammered, babbling as he always did when nervous. He got in the car and suddenly he was thinking about the holy water again. He couldn’t let Crowley kill himself, but know the demon knew where he could find purified water on Earth and that terrified him. Though currently, it was Crowley’s driving that terrified him.

They came to a screeching stop outside Aziraphale’s bookshop and Aziraphale was a little too eager to get out of the vehicle. Crowley got out too, leaning against the car and gazing at Aziraphale in the moonlight, “Night, angel. No more fraternizing with Nazis.”

“I was not fraternizing!” Aziraphale snapped, disgusted at the suggestion, “I was part of a trap. It’s not my fault I was tricked!”

Crowley grinned, “I know, angel.”

Aziraphale turned towards his bookshop and then turned back, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

Crowley seemed to think about this for a moment and smiled, he sauntered around the machine and followed the angel into the darkness of his shop. Angels and demons could see perfectly well in the dark, but Aziraphale insisted on lighting a couple of candles before opening a bottle of vintage wine and pouring them each a glass.

“So how have you been?” Aziraphale asked, handing the demon a glass before sitting himself down opposite him, “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Crowley shrugged, “Oh, this and that. Hell’s quite keen on this war, I can’t stand it personally. Have you heard about these concentration camps?”

“Awful,” Aziraphale shuddered, “I actually asked Gabriel what we were doing to end this, and he went on about how we don’t interfere with the Horsemen. It feels like turning a blind eye.”

“Doesn’t sit right, does it?” Crowley agreed, gulping down his wine and pouring himself some more.

“Other than trapping Nazi’s I’ve been volunteering at the local hospitals,” Aziraphale added cheerfully, “I bound to get an angry note any day now for too many miracles.”

Crowley smiled, “I’ve been helping out at an orphanage in the Eastend.”

“You’ve always been rather good with children,” Aziraphale remarked adoringly.

“Shut it,” Crowley hissed, but the smile killed any threat the words might have harboured.

Aziraphale smiled shyly at him, still bubbling from the emotions he was struggling to control, “You are good with children though. I’m surprised you haven’t adopted any.”

Crowley coughed on his wine, “Why would I adopt a child?”

Aziraphale scrambled for an answer, “Oh, I don’t know… I’m just…”

“Babbling,” Crowley finished, “Why are you so nervous?”

“I was almost shot,” Aziraphale retorted, it was not a lie exactly, but it was not the reason for his nerves.

Crowley sipped at his wine, fighting the urge to kiss the angel. He stared at him, taking him in like a perfect masterpiece; the way the candlelight bounced off his brilliant white-gold curls giving him a slight halo, the way his eyes shone and the way his eyelashes fluttered, the light rosiness in his cheeks. Crowley had been painting and sculpting artworks based off him for hundreds of years and nothing came even close to the beauty in front of him. The way he smiled so nervously and nattered away made him melt with affection. In this light, at this moment he wanted to kiss him, and the way he smiled almost suggested the angel would let him.

_He’d fall_, a voice reminded him. He drank his wine.

** 1967 AD – London, England **

Aziraphale was pacing in his shop. He knew Crowley was meeting with some unsavoury individuals across the street and he was waiting for him to come out. It had been exhausting, travelling around London making sure Crowley could not find holy water, but after he heard about his latest attempt to retrieve the substance had him anxious. He tried to gather information on Crowley’s intentions, but over the past four years, he still had no idea which church Crowley intended to raid. Aziraphale had decided the risks were too great and had taken some water from heaven. Water blessed by a human priest was enough to kill a demon, but it would likely be slower as it was not quite so pure, and if Crowley was going to die, he deserved relatively quick death.

Aziraphale felt sick, he hadn’t been able to eat for months, and now he had to act. According to his source, Crowley was giving out the advanced payment tonight ahead of the job tomorrow night; it was now or never. He glanced out of the window of his apartment to see Crowley talking with a man in a military jacket. After a brief conversation, Crowley turned and started walking towards his Bentley. Aziraphale grabbed the thermos and teleported himself inside the car.

Crowley looked a little surprised at his sudden appearance, but relaxed, “What are you doing here?”

“I needed a word with you.”

“What?”

“I work in Soho. I hear things,” At this particular moment he could hear his heart thudding in his ears, “I hear you are setting up a caper to rob a church. Crowley, it’s too dangerous. Holy water wouldn’t just kill your body. It would destroy you completely.”

Crowley sighed, “You’ve already told me what you think. A hundred and five years ago.”

“And I haven’t changed my mind. But I won’t have you risking your life. Not even for something dangerous. So, you can call off the robbery.” He handed over the thermos delicately, and watched Crowley, hoping he wouldn’t use it, “Don’t go unscrewing the cap.”

Crowley spoke after a moment, “It’s the real thing?”

“The holiest,” Aziraphale muttered flatly.

“After everything you said?” Crowley looked between the thermos and the angel in muted surprise, “Should I say thank you?”

“Better not.”

“Can I drop you anywhere?”

“No, thank you,” Aziraphale, they were already parked outside his shop and he had paperwork to sort through. He didn’t want to leave Crowley with the water, but he couldn’t stay either. Even behind the sunglasses, he could see Crowley’s longing, “Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could … I don’t know … have a picnic. Or dine at the Ritz.”

“I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.” Crowley offered again and the angel’s heart sank.

The agreement was one thing, but what he felt was something far more dangerous and he could not bring himself to admit. They needed to be careful, and Crowley was becoming reckless. He thought up an excuse and somehow it still felt like a breakup; “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

Aziraphale got out of the car and watched him drive away, desperately wishing he would see him again.

** 2013 AD – London, England **

_Godfathers_, Aziraphale smiled as he gazed into the mirror and then huffed in frustration; he couldn’t decide on what to wear. Five years of planning and they he was still confused and indecisive. Everything seemed wrong, too formal, too informal, too old fashioned, and the more he tried the worse he got. Crowley said he was going to pose as a nanny and said nothing further which just worried Aziraphale more. In the end, he looked ridiculous, but he was out of time and made his way across town.

It was a nice house with nice gardens, not that Aziraphale actually knew anything about gardening. That’s when he caught a glimpse of her, holding a baby and glowing. Aziraphale nearly fell over and decided that while they were alone, he should introduce himself again, not that could miss one another.

“Hello,” He said smirking, “Is this him?”

Crowley was a little started and looked up at him before biting her lips, fighting a smile, “Angel, what are you wearing?”

Aziraphale frowned, “I couldn’t decide,” His accent slipped a little and he corrected it, “I’m not very good at improvising. I thought children grew faster?”

Crowley blushed prettily and looked down at the sleeping baby, “This is little the housekeeper’s baby _girl_,” She said in mild annoyance, “I said I’d look after her for a little while; I can multi-task. Warlock, is over there,” She pointed at the five-year-old boy, who was playing with a toy dinosaur in the mud, “and I’m Miss Ashtoreth.”

“I’m Brother Francis,” Aziraphale said fondly, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Brother?” Nanny Ashtoreth sniggered, “You really are out of touch.”

“Says she who is dressed like a sinister Marry Poppins,” Francis retorted.

Ashtoreth looked aghast, “At least Mary Poppins was a nanny.”

“A _Victorian_ nanny,” Francis retorted playfully, tickling the baby’s belly.

“Shut up,” Crowley teased, “I can at least change my clothes. You’re stuck with that face.”

“Well we are going to be seeing a lot of each other over the next few years,” Francis retorted, “I can’t be too distracting for you.”

He kissed her cheek and returned to his work, leaving her blushing and flustered.

The next few years were harder than Aziraphale had thought; they saw each other nearly every day for years on end whereas before he would have nothing but his memories for decades if not centuries. She didn’t change her clothes much, though the skirts got a little shorter and she acquired some modern heels, and Aziraphale remained Brother Francis.

Aziraphale didn’t know how to tend a garden, angels could affect the physical word through their emotions alone and after some careful consideration, let his love out of its cage. The garden prospered, flowers bloomed for longer than they were supposed to, the grass was always perfectly green, even though the dry summers and harsh winters. Unfortunately, the power attracted songbirds that had decided to follow the gardener wherever he was. Another unfortunate side effect was that he now had too much time on his hands and too many emotions running wild and therefore spent half the days accidentally gazing at Ashtoreth and thinking about their next meeting at the Ritz or the theatre.

Crowley pretended not to notice, but her heart fluttered uncontrollably whenever she caught him staring at her. One day, Ashtoreth walked down to the gardens to fetch Warlock for his supper, when she heard giggling. She peered around the corner to see a couple of the kitchen staff were giggling between puffs on their cigarettes.

“No way!” One of them stammered, “I don’t believe you.”

The other looked insulted, “I’m not lying! I’m telling you; that creepy gardener has a hard-on for the creepy nanny!”

Ashtoreth frowned, _we’re not creepy_.

“He’s so old!” The first girl protested and shivered.

“Younger that he looks,” The second shrugged.

The first girl pondered that comment for a moment, “Oh you haven’t?!”

The second was laughing too, “What? I don’t get out much these days, and the guards are brainless Ken-Dolls.”

“The gardener’s brainless too,” The first girl retorted, before extinguishing her cigarette and hurrying back inside.

“I think he’s sweet,” The second woman said to herself before putting out her one cigarette and returning to the kitchens. Unsurprisingly, they both got food poisoning and were swiftly sacked for poor food hygiene.

** 2019 AD – London **

Crowley pulled up outside the bookshop, and Aziraphale hesitated, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

Crowley’s mouth twitched, “Sounds good to me.”

They were back in their own bodies and Aziraphale fluttered around his shop checking everything. Crowley couldn’t help but smile, his angel was happy and safe, they both were. Aziraphale found them something to drink, although most of his wine seemed to have been replaced with Champagne. They sat down and relaxed at long last.

“I am so sorry, my dear” Aziraphale said sorrowfully as he refilled his glass for the fifth time, the demon looked a little puzzled, so he elaborated, “I’ve said some terrible things this week. I really didn’t mean them.”

“So, did I, angel,” Crowley muttered, struggling to open the next bottle, “Forget it.”

“I can’t,” Aziraphale whined, “I said I didn’t like you. I said it was _over_.”

Crowley filled his glass, gulped it down and refilled it again, “I said forget it.”

“I do _like_ you, though. An awful lot!” Aziraphale inhaled, drinking heavily, “I ran around for over a hundred years un-blessing water around London.”

Crowley stopped and frowned.

“I knew it was just a matter of time before you realised they just left it _lying_ around in churches,” Aziraphale muttered, “Do you have any idea of how many children I had to secretly baptise because their official christenings were mucked up by me protecting you? Thousands!”

Crowley was staring at him, utterly bewildered.

“While you were asleep,” Aziraphale continued, “You weren’t being praised for things you didn’t do like the French Revolution. I-I was doing your job for you, so you wouldn’t get in trouble.”

Crowley nearly dropped the bottle of Champagne, “You _what_?”

“It’s so stupid,” Aziraphale blurted, ignoring the demon, “I’ve spent the past week- no. My entire existence, terrified of rebelling, scared of falling, and I already have.”

Crowley was unresponsive, frozen and suspended, unable to understand everything he was hearing.

Aziraphale softened and smiled, “I fell in love.”

Crowley felt like he had been punched in the chest and his heart had been ripped out, an odd reaction he realised, but having loved him for so long it came as shock to finally hear the words. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to sing and dance with joy or cry.

Aziraphale stood and walked over to the stupefied demon and removed his sunglasses, revealing wide, unblinking yellow eyes, “Crowley? I love you.”

A sob escaped his lips and Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him, straddling his thighs to get closer to him. He kissed his fiery hair and cupped his jaw to look him in his beautiful eyes, “I love you,” he whispered once more before kissing his lips. Crowley was dazed and unable to move worth a damn as the angel kissed him sweetly, melting him slowly. Aziraphale leaned back, cupping the demons face in his hands, “Are you alright?”

Crowley smiled weakly and nodded, his arms wrapping around the angel and pulling him closer. Aziraphale kissed him again but this time he moved with the angel, kissing him back. Aziraphale hummed and nipped at the demon’s lower lip, making him whimper. The angel tugged at the demon’s short red hair and he gasped as Aziraphale claimed his mouth with his tongue. Crowley held him tightly, fisting at his antique clothes and pulling him closer; fearing the angel might leave. The kissed for what felt like hours, which may have been _hours_, letting go of their barriers and embracing one-another emotionally in a way they had always denied themselves. Aziraphale was the first to break their kiss, placing gentle kisses along Crowley’s jaw and down his neck, sucking at his collarbone and scraping his teeth along his jugular. Crowley sighed beneath him, his body shifting to offer more flesh to the angel.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered, sucking the demon’s earlobe.

“Uh-huh?” Crowley gasped.

“Make love to me.”

Crowley’s breath caught in his throat, “W-what?”

Aziraphale rolled his pelvis against the thigh of the trapped demon, “I want you.”

Crowley stopped for a moment before grasping the angel’s arse and shifting him further up his lap, so that his own arousal, which was pressing against his skinny jeans, was pressed against his perineum behind his scrotum. Aziraphale gasped and rocked against Crowley’s erection, his head lulled back, and his eyes fluttered shut as he pleasured himself against the demon. Crowley grabbed his jaw and pulled him into a desperate kiss, thrusting up against him. Aziraphale groaned gutturally into his mouth, his hands grasping for flesh. Crowley slipped a hand between them, gripping Aziraphale’s erection firmly, causing the angel to cry out and bit his bit.

“Too many clothes,” Crowley whispered, fiddling with the angel’s belt. Suddenly, Aziraphale pushed away and stood, swaying slightly, pulling off his clothes hastily. Crowley sat there and stared before hastening to get his own clothes off. The moment Aziraphale was naked, he was crawling back onto Crowley’s lap and claiming his mouth; Crowley’s trousers and pants were around his ankles, and he was still wearing his socks and a vest top. Aziraphale pulled the top over his head and stopped.

“What?” Crowley muttered, fearing the angel had changed his mind.

But Aziraphale was smiling, “I’ve never seen you. All of you, that is.”

“Nor I you,” Crowley gave his soft flesh a gentle squeeze, trying to coax him closer.

“You’re beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered, returning to Crowley’s mouth and neck. He squeaked as Crowley’s had caressed his arse, suddenly slick with oil. Crowley looked deeply into Aziraphale’s eyes as he brushed a slick finger around his arsehole. The angel smirked and gave a small nod before he pushed his finger inside. Aziraphale moaned and praised him as he moved inside, he buried his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck as he pushed a second finger inside, and he bit his neck, crying out in pleasure as he pushed in a third and hit his prostate.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale gasped kissing and biting his lover, “Please!”

Crowley smirked, removing his fingers and snapped then for more moisture and slicked his own throbbing erection. He pulled on Aziraphale’s arse to guide him closer, “Are you sure, angel?”

“I’ve always wanted you,” Aziraphale gasped, Crowley guided himself inside and the angel lowered himself onto him, “Oh, _my!_”

Crowley was cruelly reminded of the first time they had met, and the sins had got the better of him.

“I love you,” Aziraphale was muttering as he rose on fell onto him, “I love you, so much. Since I met you…ah!”

Crowley kissed him and bucked against him, making him cry out. He let the angel ride him for a while before it was not enough. He grabbed the angel and carefully lifted him and placed him onto his back on the sofa and thrust inside.

“AH!” Aziraphale cried out, digging his fingertips into Crowley’s back. They shifted a couple of times before they got the angles right again and Aziraphale was screaming. Crowley sucked and nibbled at his neck, fucking him as steadily as he could manage as the angel melted into pure pleasure.

Crowley could feel Aziraphale approaching his climax; his nails were almost tearing into his flesh, his legs were hitched and pushing Crowley deeper inside, his cries were loud and lacking in language. Crowley consumed his mouth, reaching down to grasp Aziraphale’s penis. Aziraphale’s cries were lost in Crowley’s mouth as he finally came for him, Crowley’s own climax surged through him moments later. He thrusted a couple more times before collapsing atop the angel, breathing heavily.

“Did you mean that?” Crowley asked after a few moments.

“Mean what?” Aziraphale sighed.

“About loving me since the beginning?”

Aziraphale looked at him longingly, “Of course! A little sudden, I’ll admit, but … there was something about you.”

Crowley smiled, unburdened and joyful, “I’ve loved you since the beginning too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Roman reference: https://wisteria-lodge.tumblr.com/post/186061778853/crowleys-roman-look-is-very-strange


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